


Something Just Like This

by etcetera_kit



Category: Super Sentai Series, 宇宙戦隊キュウレンジャー | Uchu Sentai Kyuranger
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Post-Break Up, Reunion Sex, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-04
Updated: 2018-11-04
Packaged: 2019-08-17 07:44:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16512149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etcetera_kit/pseuds/etcetera_kit
Summary: This was the first time Stinger would actually lay eyes on Naaga in three years.





	Something Just Like This

**Author's Note:**

> So many works in progress, so little focus! In honor of National Novel Writing Month, have this little 10k offering. :)

**Something Just Like This**   
_Someone I can talk to, somebody I can kiss… I want something just like this._

“You okay, partner?”

Stinger turned slightly, smiling a little in greeting as Champ joined him on the balcony. He hadn’t been to Rebellion HQ in years, and the facility had been built out extensively in that time. They were staying in suites in one of the newest wings. The suites were clustered around a common area with a fully stocked kitchen, dining area and living room. The dining area opened into a balcony, with a view of the city skyline beyond the campus. The late afternoon sun hung in the sky, waves of summer heat bringing the bustle below to a slow stupor. 

Seven years since they defeated Don Armage and brought peace to the universe.

Seven years since they’d all gone their separate ways.

Each year, Rebellion invited them all to a celebration in their honor. The first two years, all of them had been present. But then circumstances and responsibilities caused people to be absent. Honeymoons, births of children, deaths, important events on home planets, injuries, illness—any number of things kept one or more of them away from this party. But this year was the first time in five years all twelve of them would be present again. 

And this was the first time Stinger would actually lay eyes on _him_ in three years.

Odd that everything in his life was measured in years now. He used to measure in weeks or months. Maybe he was getting old. If he said that to Champ, the android would moo and scoff. You’re thirty-one. Hardly old for an organic.

He turned back to the skyline, leaning against the railing again. Champ stood next to him.

“I’m fine,” he replied shortly.

Champ clapped his shoulder for a moment. “Just worried about you.”

Stinger knew exactly why Champ was worried, but decided to be oblivious. “Why would you be worried about me?”

He didn’t look, but he knew Champ was doing his approximation of a glower. “Don’t play dumb,” Champ admonished. “You’re seeing Naaga for the first time in three years. Of course I’m worried.”

“Champ, it will be fine.”

A huffy moo, and then, “I know _you’ll_ be fine. You’ve been ridiculously calm and zen about the whole thing for two and a half years.” He mooed again. “How’s he going to be?”

“Naaga will be fine too.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Come on, I think I do. I message with him every day.”

“Messaging someone is not the same as calling them or seeing them, and you know it.”

Stinger didn’t reply, just let the conversation lull for a moment. Champ wasn’t going anywhere and also knew way more about the nature of the messages than anyone else. He supposed he was lonely and Champ was his closest friend. He didn’t have family or a home constellation system—not like the others did. He drank up those times when he saw the others. Champ realized a long time ago that Stinger would isolate himself, and had made Earth his home base, just to be able to check on him in between matches. And he always ended up telling Champ way more than he meant to. Like how he was certain that Naaga had realized breaking up was a mistake, but pride and self-doubt kept him away.

“I know,” Stinger finally replied. He turned around, leaning back against the railing. He gave Champ a sidelong look. “I forgave him two and a half years ago,” he continued softly. “And I told him I would be here if he ever wanted to come back.” He shrugged. “And if he ever does, I’m not letting go of him again.”

“I know all that,” Champ responded. “And I know you never stopped loving him. But I want you to see him in person first, talk to him, before going all in on this again.”

“No rash decisions?” Stinger asked wryly. 

Champ gave him a long look, then nodded. “You’re going to make a rash decision. I know you. You can’t help yourself.” He shook his head. “And your ill-thought-out decisions have a weird way of turning out all right, so what do I know?”

Stinger gave him a long look.

Champ clapped his shoulder again. “Have fun. Use protection. You don’t know where he’s been.”

_That_ comment made Stinger roll his eyes.

They headed back inside, where the climate controls made the building almost too cool. The others were slowly getting here, one by one. Naaga and Balance were supposed to arrive until right before dinner that evening. Spada was, of course, cooking for all of them in the kitchen here, before they got involved in the larger celebrations in a day or two. 

He took a deep breath. He and Naaga had been together for three years, talking about getting married and planning for a future together. The break-up had been a shock to him and he spent months angry at the world, lashing out at anything he could. (Except for the things Naaga left. Those he gathered close to himself and wouldn’t let anyone else touch—he’d gotten especially mad at Champ when he suggested all those things be put away.) And then, something shifted. He couldn’t really say what, other than he realized with sudden clarity why Naaga had done this. And he was upset and frustrated and, hell, sad about those reasons. He had wanted to shake Naaga. _Just believe me when I tell you I love you and nothing is too much!_ But he understood that Naaga thought he was doing what was best.

That was why he’d started messaging Naaga again. Just reach out, tentatively, from a distant, try to be as supportive and caring as possible. Try to take care of him a little.

And, honestly, he really did want to see Naaga. He was looking forward to it almost as much as he was terrified.

Naaga’s room for the weekend was right next door to his, the only two rooms down this small hallway. He knew that was a coincidence, but he was still pleased. Comfortable proximity to talk or see each other, without the prying eyes from the rest of the team.

He could do this.

Maybe Champ was right—he needed to not hope so much.

But he couldn’t help himself. He was already too far gone.

\-------------------

Naaga was shaking visibly as they walked into the suite of rooms. The others were scattered throughout their own rooms, the balcony and the living area, so there was not a loud chorus of welcomes. Just Spada waving from the stove and Lucky scrambling over the back of the couch to hug them.

“Which rooms are ours?” Balance asked cheerfully as Lucky hugged each of them in turn.

Lucky was frowning at Naaga, and he wanted to run away from the scrutiny. “Naaga’s down there,” he gestured to a short hallway with only two doors, “And you’re there,” he continued, pointing to a longer hallway nearer to the kitchen. “Naaga, are you okay? You don’t look well.”

“I just need to lay down before dinner,” he replied, voice trembling too.

He just had to remind himself that he wanted to do this. He could have easily avoided this, but he’d wanted to be here. Only now that he was here, he was scared beyond belief. There was too much he’d done wrong, too much that was entirely his fault. He didn’t deserve forgiveness for anything, and was terrified that the messages and kind words were just a front of some kind. Balance had been reassuring him for a long time now—Stinger was a lot of things, but cruel and vindictive were not among them. He was likely to retreat and cut off communication, not engage in some long-running scam. 

“I’ll show him his room.”

Stinger.

His knees almost buckled at the sight of Stinger. Three years, and he looked much the same. Maybe a little more tired, a little more careworn, but still the man he loved. His hair was a little shorter, but still long enough to fall into his eyes. He was dressed casually in jeans and a Henley, wearing house shoes, and a cardigan thrown on (probably because the climate controls in the suites worked extremely well.)

Lucky was looking between the pair of them, worried.

Balance, on the other hand, laughed and gently pushed Naaga towards Stinger. “Great!” he replied, sunny enthusiasm only slightly forced. “Lucky, show me where my room is?”

Lucky still looked unsure, but led Balance down the other hall.

“Hey,” Stinger said softly. 

“Hi,” was the only word he could croak out. He was clenching and unclenching the handle to his bag. He couldn’t quite meet Stinger’s eyes, glancing wildly around everywhere else. His heart beat uncomfortably in his chest.

“Come on,” Stinger said, voice soft and gentle. “This way.”

Almost stumbling, he followed Stinger down the short hallway. The door to Stinger’s room was open, and he could see the orange and gray striped blanket on the bed. That was enough to give him pause. One of the things that Stinger always packed was a blanket from home—no matter where they were staying, Stinger had a blanket at the bottom of his bag. Almost all of Stinger’s bedding was handmade, and the blanket was no exception. Naaga had found that endearing. One of those quirks that he loved, looked forward to seeing. 

Stinger opened the second door in the hallway. The rooms were furnished, furniture sleek and minimalist. The bedding was ivory-colored. Naaga stepped around Stinger into the room, all but dropping his bag on the bed.

“Each room has a private bathroom,” Stinger was saying. “And the kitchen is fully stocked.” He took a step into the room. “Naaga, what’s wrong?”

He was staring at the bed, shaking. All the things he’d wanted to say, all those things he felt like he had to say. But nothing was coming out of his mouth, just shaky gasps. He wanted to say that he was sorry, sorrier than Stinger could ever know. He’d been so scared. Those days, gaining emotions had been difficult and he was gripped with anxiety and panic attacks. He still wasn’t sure how to regulate emotions. Stinger used to tell him that crying or getting angry or feeling overwhelmed was completely normal. He would hold him until whatever cloud passed. But the little things built up. He could see Stinger’s worry and concern, the soothing tones. But coaxing him through took its toll on Stinger. He couldn’t ask that much of another person. It wasn’t fair to Stinger. He was a burden. 

But then Stinger started messaging him again. And everything felt normal. A little part of him wished that he’d just trusted everything Stinger told him. Why had he not just listened? Even now, as he tried to breath normally and not start sobbing, he looked over at Stinger, saw the concern and the love shining in his eyes, and he wanted to hold on to him, not let go again.

For lack of something else to do, he opened his bag, pulling out the item on top. He clutched the handmade teddy bear to his chest, blinking back tears.

Stinger made him the bear early on in their relationship. He would have night terrors, mostly about Akenba, but other incidents from their battle against Jark Matter came up occasionally. He had a lot of trouble calming down and getting back to sleep, and Stinger had noticed he grabbed pillows or blankets to his chest when attempting to calm himself. The bear was made of soft, gray fleece, a little larger than a standard plush animal. The stuffing was a little lumpy now, the fleece worn in places, one of the ears coming off (and a hole forming near one of the arms), but Naaga still kept the bear close to him. He’d left the bear right after the break-up. Stinger mailed him the bear a few months later. And he’d slept with the bear pulled to his chest every night since then.

He heard Stinger shut the door, and cross the room to him.

“Gorgeous,” he muttered. Naaga felt a tear roll down his cheek at the pet name.

Stinger’s hand was on his cheek, turning him to face him. Naaga went slowly, desperately trying to stop the panicked tears that were coming, breathing ragged.

“Take a deep breath,” Stinger said softly. “It’s okay.”

Naaga shook his head. “It’s not,” he ground out. “I hurt you too much.”

Stinger voice was soft and soothing, even, as he reminded, “I told you a long time ago that I forgive you for all of that.” His thumb was stroking Naaga’s cheek.

“Not just the break-up,” Naaga continued. “But _this_.” He gestured helplessly. “You always took care of me when I’m like _this_ and it’s too much.”

“It’s not.” Stinger said firmly. “You are not only the ugly emotions that get the better of everyone sometimes. _Everyone_ goes through that. _I_ go through that.” Stinger’s other hand was on his waist. “What would you do if I was having a bad day?”

Naaga blinked. Stinger’s thumb wiped away a few stray tears. “I would…” he started, stumbling. “Make sure the house was quiet, put on some soft music, maybe.” He sniffed. “Um, the guitar stuff. And…” Another sniff. “I’d make dinner. Salads, usually. We’d drink a bottle of wine. And before that, I’d rub your back, try to get you to talk about it.”

“See? You’d take care of me a lot.” Stinger smiled a little, encouraging. “We went through a lot of wine there for a while. The liquor store owner got to know us really well.”

Naaga couldn’t help but return the smile as he remembered. “You used to say that at least he knew we were just buying wine and not the hard stuff.”

Stinger wiped away a few more tears, before moving both arms around his waist, pulling him close. Naaga was still clutching his teddy bear, but leaned into the embrace. “Gorgeous,” Stinger whispered. “I love you for exactly who you are, and that means rough stuff every so often. It was never anything I couldn’t handle. Hell, I’d been through things like that myself.”

“I was happy when we were together,” Naaga acknowledged.

“I was too.” Stinger nudged him a little. 

Naaga stared at Stinger for a moment, drinking in all the details he had missed. The slight crinkle around his eyes as he smiled. The way his hair fell into his eyes and he never bothered to brush his hair back. The mole on his chin (leading to a constellation of them on his chest and back). He was still wearing his scorpion tail necklace. 

Without thinking, he closed the small distance between them, pressing his lips to Stinger’s. His lips were soft and sweet, just like he remembered, and he felt Stinger hold him tighter, returning the kiss. Without deepening the kiss, they broke apart and Stinger gazed at him for a moment.

His voice sounded broken and small when he asked, “Was that okay?”

“Yes,” Stinger breathed, before raising a hand and threading it through his hair, pulling him in for more. He caught Naaga open-mouthed and Naaga gasped into the kiss, feeling the heat and warmth run through his body, pooling in his stomach. The shivers ran up and down his back. This was so good, so familiar. He had missed this so much. Stinger was taking the lead, practically ravishing his mouth and he let him, making pleased noises. One hand went to Stinger’s neck, the other still holding his bear. He couldn’t get enough of the kiss, didn’t want this to end.

Eventually they had to breath. Stinger planted one final, small kiss on his lips before they broke apart completely, breathing ragged. Naaga knew he was flushed.

“I guess we need to talk,” he whispered.

Stinger nodded. “After dinner,” he added. “But I think we’re on the same page.”

Naaga hoped so.

Stinger released him a little, going to the bed. He picked up a navy blue and silver afghan that Naaga hadn’t noticed earlier. Stinger handed him the blanket. “I made this for you,” he said softly. He smiled again. “You were telling me about remembering I always bring a blanket from home, so I thought I’d make you one.”

Naaga took the afghan, looking from the blanket to Stinger. “It’s beautiful,” he said softly.

“You have a few minutes to unpack, then dinner,” Stinger said, changing gears. “Since everyone was traveling today, no one has anything planned for tonight. Tomorrow is just a free day—we can do what we want. However,” Stinger rolled his eyes a little. “Lucky and Tsurugi keep trying to plan group activities.”

“We should at least see what they have planned.”

“I guess that depends on what we decide tonight.”

Nothing was ominous in the way Stinger said the words. Rather, he looked calm and content. Was rushing back into a relationship a good idea? Probably not. But it wasn’t like they’d not been communicating at all. Naaga had called Stinger a few times when he really needed support, and Stinger had done the same. The messages were daily, often multiple times. 

“Here,” Stinger added. “I can work on repairing your bear before dinner. I don’t have the replacement stuffing here, but I can do the rest.”

Naaga handed the bear to Stinger.

Everything felt right again.

\-------------------

Dinner had not quite been as awkward as Stinger imagined. He grabbed the travel sewing kit he kept permanently in his bag and Naaga’s bear, and had gone out to the main area where the light was better. (After giving Naaga another lingering kiss—gods, how he’d missed kissing him.) Balance was out there, lounging at the table. (From the haphazard place settings, Stinger assumed Spada had made a valiant attempt to get Balance to set the table.) Balance didn’t comment on the bear itself, rather he quipped, “It’d be really cute if you put little orange patches on it.”

Stinger had damn-near forgotten that Balance had always been a weird-ass cheerleader for their relationship. He had been thrilled that Naaga, his best friend ever, had gotten into a romantic relationship, and was entertained beyond belief it was with Stinger. (Balance and Stinger weren’t exactly friends, but had worked together on mass producing the venom antidote. They had a grudging respect for one another.) A few weeks after the break-up, Balance had called him. _“I know you’re pissed beyond belief, but trust me, Naaga’s going through a shitstorm right now. I’m looking out for him. Just be really patient, please? He needs some time.”_

When Stinger saw where the hole was forming around the seams in the bear’s armpit, he hated to admit that Balance might have been onto something with the patches. At any rate, he gave the bear a quick repair job in the two worst places. He’d be able to fix the bear further at home. Home, gods, a few kisses and he just assumed Naaga was coming home with him.

Not the same home, of course. They’d rented a house on Earth when they’d been together. Stinger bought a house two years ago. The place needed lots of repairs, but he’d gotten it for a good price. He’d focused on getting enough repaired so he could live there, which took about six months. The master bedroom and bathroom were done, as was the living room and kitchen. Still had all the other common areas, bedrooms and two other bathrooms to go, but he was making progress. Champ helped him when he wasn’t at a match.

During dinner, most talk centered around Tsurugi and whatever constellation systems he was working with currently. Stinger didn’t miss the furtive looks some of the others threw their way. (Naaga sat next to him at dinner, keeping his bear in his lap.) Nothing was helped by the fact that Naaga just picked at his dinner. Lucky looked worried, but Spada kept elbowing him and distracting him with ideas on what to do tomorrow. Hame kept leaning over and whispering to Raptor. Kotarou appeared to be attempting to listen to their conversation, but he was not all that smooth about doing so.

After dinner, they attempted to retreat back to their rooms, but Lucky stopped him in the process.

“Hey,” Lucky said, frowning. “I don’t know what’s going on, but be careful.”

Stinger rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s none of your business.”

“Come on,” Lucky whined. “I care about both of you.” He made a face. “I remember how angry you were. How worried Champ was about you.” He paused, and then, “But I also remember how devastated Naaga was. If I thought you were inconsolable, Naaga was worse.”

Stinger blinked, turning over that information. “What?”

“You didn’t know?”

“No, because _he_ dumped _me_.”

Then it was Lucky’s turn to go, “What?”

“You heard me.” Stinger narrowed his eyes at him. “You really didn’t know that part?”

“No,” Lucky mumbled. “I mean, no one specified, so I just assumed—”

“That I was the asshole? Thanks for that.” The sarcasm dripped off his voice.

“Oh, come on! It’s not like that. You just always used to talk about how Naaga could do way better than you!”

“Lucky, just stay out of this and leave us alone.”

Lucky gave him a long look. Then took a step back. “You still love him.”

Stinger knew he was glaring and sounded extremely pissy when he snapped, “I never stopped loving him.”

“Stinger?”

Naaga had come out of his room and laid a hand on his shoulder. Stinger automatically covered his hand with his own.

“Is everything okay?” Naaga’s voice was soft and neutral. Gods, he sounded like himself.

“It’s fine,” he replied shortly. “Lucky was leaving.” He punctuated the second sentence with a glare. Lucky’s brow was furrowed in continued worry, but, to his credit, he backed off and disappeared into the common area.

“Calm down,” Naaga said quietly, hand still on his shoulder. “He just wants to help.”

Stinger turned towards Naaga. “When has he ever helped with anything?” he muttered darkly.

The look on Naaga’s face was so familiar and so… _wonderful_. His eyes narrowed, eyebrows furrowed slightly, and he chewed on the inside of his lip. Essentially, that was Naaga’s bitchface. He then sighed, as if to say, _You really want me to elaborate on that?_

Stinger cupped his cheek, pulling him close into a long, searing kiss.

When they broke apart, Naaga looked dazed, and a little confused. He opened his mouth as if he were going to ask a question, but he was interrupted by a whooping cheer from the common area. Stinger whirled around to see Balance, fists pumping above his head in a weird victory dance, staring directly at them.

“Balance,” Naaga warned, tone taking on a very subtle whine.

“I’m so excited for you!” Balance put space between each word, like he was creating a cheer.

Naaga rolled his eyes—actually rolled his eyes—and grabbed Stinger’s hand, pulling him into his bedroom and shutting the door behind them.

Once the door was closed and everything was quiet, Stinger exhaled harshly. Naaga looked nervous now that they were alone. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“For what?” Stinger asked warmly. He itched to just pull Naaga into his arms and pick up where they left off in the hallway. He’d missed so much about Naaga, especially kissing and holding him. The quiet moments, where they could just lean on each other, let the silence envelope them. So many sad things in his life were associated with chaos and noise—hell, even Naaga breaking up with him had been messy and loud. He craved those moments of bliss, no cacophony. Just them.

“Everything,” was the shaky response.

“Naaga,” Stinger sighed, just giving in and pulling him into his arms. “I know all that.” He kissed his cheek. “I also know you’ve come far enough for that to not happen again.” He paused, and acknowledged, “If we decide to get back together.”

Naaga closed the small distance between them, arms around Stinger’s shoulders. He buried his face in the juncture of Stinger’s shoulder and neck, breath hot against his skin. “I can’t believe I did it, now,” he mumbled. “I wish I’d just talked to you. Given it a few weeks.”

Stinger rubbed one hand up his back. “You were scared. It’s hard to overcome fear.”

“But then you reached out again. I was so happy. I was afraid you’d never speak to me again.”

Stinger felt himself smile, happy, but also a little sad that Naaga had been that afraid. “You’re the first and only person I ever actually loved. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I love you,” Naaga muttered.

“I love you too.”

“I want to get back together.”

Stinger gently eased Naaga away, just a little, so he could meet his gaze. His eyes were red, and he looked a little teary still, but determined. And resolute. Stinger nodded. “Me too,” he replied simply.

He thought, for a single moment, that they might start talking about the logistics—where they were living, if Naaga could work remotely (he could, but Stinger would feel better if he said the words aloud), ground rules or communication logistics, hell, even who needed to cook dinner when—but that all flew out of his head, because Naaga started a very enthusiastic kiss. Stinger was never saying no to that. This was open-mouthed and hot. Naaga went to bid for some dominance in the kiss, but Stinger gently bit his tongue, admonishing him, and Naaga moaned, deep in the back of his throat. He kept the upper hand, ravishing Naaga’s mouth, tasting him so thoroughly that nothing else would compare.

He hadn’t brought it up, because he didn’t really want to know the answer, but he knew that Naaga had been on a few dates in the past three years. Nothing in over two years, but enough. He wondered how far Naaga got on those dates, if those people had even cared about him. Stinger hadn’t gone on any dates, had actively avoided places where that might happen. He’d even taken a ring Naaga gave him for Christmas one year and wore it on the ring finger of his left hand, just letting people think he was engaged or married. Only Champ knew it was a farce. Everyone else left him alone.

He threaded one hand through Naaga’s hair.

They broke apart, breathing ragged. 

“Is this okay?” Naaga asked, breathless, eyes searching his face.

Stinger smiled. “Gods, yes,” he damn-near moaned, going back to the searing kiss. 

They were already standing fairly close to the bed and, with a little nudging, they collapsed into an ungraceful tangle of limbs. The small oof made the kiss end, and Naaga started laughing. He reached up and affectionately pushed Stinger’s hair out of his eyes. This was what he adored seeing—Naaga, just happy and carefree, not carefully calculating his emotions or emulating someone else or doing what he thought was appropriate. Just reacting naturally. He felt himself return the smile, tugging Naaga to sit up enough that he could push off his sweater and then strip off his shirt. 

The next part was familiar enough to widen his smile. Naaga immediately shivered (even if the room was warm, something about taking off clothes hit him with a wave of cold) and scrambled to return the favor. Stinger helped him get rid of his sweater and shirt, pushing Naaga back into the mattress. He sighed happily, goosebumps disappearing as he slipped his arms around Stinger’s neck and continued the deep, overpowering kisses. 

He broke the kiss when he remembered, “Hell, I didn’t bring any protection.”

Naaga frowned. “But you did bring lube?”

“Hey, the lube makes rubbing one out in the shower easier.” At Naaga’s slight glower, he added, “Don’t give me that look. Not everyone shares your opinion on masturbation.”

Basically, Naaga had never had sex, or even tried anything to himself, before getting with Stinger. At one point, Stinger had tried talking him into trying things by himself. And Naaga did. But didn’t prefer it. Why would someone do that when they could do it with someone else? 

Naaga sighed, adjusting his arms around Stinger. “I haven’t been with anyone in three years.”

“What? I thought you went on some dates.”

A shrug. “I did. Never did anything. Only kissed once. And it was _bad_.”

Stinger stifled a laugh. “Was it bad because it was actually a bad kiss or it wasn’t me?”

“The first one. Or both. I don’t know.” Naaga paused, and then asked, “What about you?”

“Never even went on a date.”

“Just the shower?”

Stinger recognized that immediately—a Naaga joke. He grinned, pushing Naaga into the mattress and continuing the fiery kiss. “You’re amazing,” he breathed.

And the sex was just as good as he remembered.

He went slow, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to Naaga’s skin, taking his time getting their clothes off. Naaga’s fingers were threaded through his hair, holding him close, delicious noises coming out of him as he got closer to the edge. 

He purposely went slowly, using extra lube, to open up Naaga. His lover kept urging him to go faster, but it had been too long, and he didn’t want to hurt him. 

Finally, he entered Naaga and they were as close as he wanted to be.

This felt like coming home.

\-------------------

The next morning, Naaga jerked awake, disoriented for a moment. Then he realized, he was sleeping in Stinger’s room. They’d clearly cleaned up at least a little, because he just felt tired and sore, not sticky and sweaty. He reached over. Stinger was no longer in bed and the sheets were cool—he’d left a while ago. He felt a pang, heart dropping to his stomach, but then he realized he was covered in the original blanket Stinger brought and the new afghan he’d made for Naaga. He also had his bear, which Stinger would have had to go get out of his room. There was a scrap of paper on Stinger’s pillow. Pushing himself up a little, he grabbed the paper, still holding his bear. 

_Went to make breakfast. Water on the nightstand. Be right back. Love you._

He turned the other way and saw the bottle of water on his nightstand. Involuntarily, he smiled. He was always thirsty when he woke up, and the first thing he usually did was gulp some water. When they didn’t have sex, just went to bed, Stinger would go through a checklist that included making sure there was water. And when they forgot the water? Stinger was up in the morning getting him some. Everything about this felt like coming home. He hadn’t felt this warm and comfortable in, well, three years. He reached over and grabbed the water.

The door opened and he visibly started.

“Just me, gorgeous,” Stinger murmured, balancing a tray in one hand and shutting the door behind him.

Naaga took a deep breath, drinking some water. Then he blinked, frowning. “Did you make breakfast like that?”

Stinger set the tray on the bed, smiling a little. “Gorgeous, it’s six in the morning. No one else was up yet.” He was only wearing a pair of pajama pants, and that was something else Naaga missed. Stinger woke up early, no matter what, and he often got up on their days off and made breakfast. Granted, at home, early in the morning, Stinger seemed to think clothing was optional, especially during the summer. Which he demonstrated by stripping off the pajama pants and climbing under the covers next to Naaga.

He drank more water, glancing around the room as Stinger pulled the tray closer to them. His bag was sitting on the chair in the room—he hadn’t unpacked anything yesterday. Stinger must have gotten all his things last night, but he still asked, “Did you go get my things last night?”

Stinger smiled. “You were almost asleep, but murmured something about wanting your bear.” He shrugged, “I figured I should get the rest of your stuff so you didn’t have to go back and forth.” He wrinkled his nose a little. “Too much?”

Naaga shook his head. “No. That was sweet.” Then he properly took in what Stinger had made for breakfast. Waffles. Not just any waffles—blueberry waffles. A lump lodged in his throat. Stinger made all kind of meals—he was an excellent cook—but blueberry waffles had become their tradition on Sunday mornings, usually the only day they could reliably count on as a day off. Stinger would get up early and make the waffles, something he didn’t usually make because they were relatively fussy. Naaga knew that was not true, especially after all the practice Stinger had. But still.

Stinger had really liked their house—all the open space, tall windows meaning lots of sunlight. The neighborhood had larger lots, and theirs had trees and landscaping so they couldn’t see their neighbors. The place had felt private and secluded, but close enough to a small town and stores to not feel isolated. A tear rolled down his cheek. Neither of them had that house anymore, because of him. Stinger had bought a place, and sent him some pictures. The place needed lots of work. Tears started falling. He felt like he’d taken away something Stinger loved.

“Gorgeous,” he breathed. “Naaga,” he said again, cupping his face. 

“I’m sorry,” he sobbed. 

“About what?” Stinger’s voice was soft and concerned.

“I know you couldn’t afford the house anymore after I left and then you bought the one you have now, and it’s not done, and it won’t be done, and that’s my fault and—”

“Naaga,” Stinger interrupted. “It’s not your fault. I could have stayed there. But I didn’t want to without you.”

“Then why…” He was so startled by the statement his sobs reduced to sniffles. 

“Why did I move? And buy the fixer-upper?”

He nodded.

Stinger sighed. “We rented that place together, and it’s as simple as, I needed a change. So I bought the house I have now. Something to take my mind off things.”

He didn’t know, but he asked, “Did it work?”

“Not really.” Stinger leaned forward and kissed him gently. “Don’t worry about it. We need to plan for a future.” Another kiss. “We should eat.” Then Stinger was leaning back and wiping away the stray tears. Naaga kept his gaze for a long moment. He didn’t want to believe that Stinger’s reasons were that simple, but Naaga knew that Stinger didn’t lie or exaggerate. He told the truth, no matter what.

“I saved up some money,” he mumbled quickly. “Maybe that will help with the renovations.” He felt himself flush deeply as he said the words. And, honestly, he’d been planning to give the money to Stinger from the beginning, whether or not they got back together.

Stinger blinked. “You did what?”

“Um,” Naaga looked around, and then his eyes landed on the nightstand on his side of the bed. Stinger had done exactly what he thought—put his phone on the charging station there. He grabbed his phone and quickly brought up the account where he’d put the savings, then showed Stinger the amount.

Stinger’s mouth dropped open a little as he was clearly processing, before he said, “Naaga, gorgeous, that is way more than we need to finish fixing the house. That’s like, we fix the house, go on a ridiculous vacation and still have some left over for a savings account.” He reached out, cupping his face again. “How the hell did you save up that much?”

“Um…” He didn’t think he could possibly flush more, but he did. “I got some bonuses at work. And I moved to a cheap place. And I cut some corners with living expenses… a little.”

Stinger was giving him an appraising look, dropping one hand, but continuing to stroke his cheekbone with the other. A conversation about that was coming—later. Not about saving the money, because he could tell that Stinger was impressed with that much. (They made approximately the same salary at their jobs—Stinger was choosing to repair one part of the house at a time so he could fund the renovation instead of taking out a line of credit. Smart, practical.) No, Stinger would be worried that Naaga cut essential things in order to save that much and, in some ways, he had. He found he didn’t like to cook or even grocery shop without Stinger. He also didn’t have home furnishings (much to Balance’s dismay and horror.)

A soft kiss ended the conversation. Naaga held on for more and Stinger easily went along. When they broke apart, Stinger stayed in his space a moment, grinning, “Okay, please eat? Before everything gets ice cold.”

Naaga quickly wiped away the remaining tears, taking a deep breath. In addition to the waffles, Stinger had sliced some fruit—mangos, strawberries and kiwi—and had some turkey sausage. He’d also brought a cup of tea for Naaga, and coffee for himself.

He took a bite of the waffles, closing his eyes and savoring the taste.

This was comfortable and wonderful, and he was not letting go this time.

\-------------------

“It is so damn hot on this planet,” Balance complained.

“You’re mechanical. It’s not hot,” Champ irritatingly reminded him.

“But all the poor little organics are roasting!”

Champ’s expression clearly said he thought Balance wasn’t actually all that concerned about the organic members of their team. Rude. 

They were poolside and the sun was high in the sky—lunch was being served. Finally. There was some delay or another because Spada wasn’t happy with the quality of some ingredient. Whatever. The others had been playing pool games that morning, or sitting in lawn chairs and catching up. Naaga and Stinger had been in a lawn chair, sort of off by themselves, talking in hushed tones. Like, super hushed. Balance tried to tune his audio frequency to pick up what they were whispering about, and they were being too quiet for even that. Which then made him wonder how the hell they could hear each other.

Now, the lawn chair was under a large umbrella, so Naaga was firmly in the shade. He was wearing his swim trunks and a t-shirt, and was currently dozing in the lawn chair, clutching his bear to his chest. Balance got the napping part, he really did. The last eighteen hours, actually seeing Stinger? As much as Naaga had been a nervous wreck in the days and weeks before coming here, the last eighteen or so hours had to have him emotionally exhausted. (Even if things did appear to be reaching the outcome Naaga had hoped for.) Stinger was off getting lunch for the two of them, so now was Balance’s chance.

“Hey, buddy!” He threw himself into a lawn chair next to Naaga’s. 

Naaga shifted a little and opened one eye. “Hi, Balance,” he said, voice hoarse and groggy.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Naaga nodded.

“You two getting back together?”

Another nod. Cripes, Naaga looked exhausted.

“Bud,” Balance said, patting his shoulder. “Why don’t you go inside and lay down? It’s damned hot out here, and you don’t like extreme temperatures.”

“We will,” Naaga replied. “After lunch.”

“You sure you’re okay? Need to tell me anything.”

Naaga shook his head. “No, everything has gone pretty much how you said.”

“Stinger seems happy to be with you,” Balance commented. “I know you’re happy to be with him.” Balance nudged him a little. “Tell him about your family planning yet?”

“What family planning?”

Stinger appearing suddenly with two plates and asking that question startled Naaga into a little more awareness. He slowly pushed himself into a semi-sitting position, rubbing one eye and setting his bear on the chair next to him. He accepted the plate that Stinger handed him, and moved his legs to give Stinger room to sit across from him.

Ah, yes, two plates. Balance remembered Naaga mentioning something casually about that. Stinger didn’t share food—or at least, he didn’t want people trying to taste food off his plate. Kotarou figured that out immediately, and it did not occur to Naaga to even try tasting food on someone else’s plate. And as Champ did not eat food, that covered everyone close to Stinger. Naaga had never shared what happened to Stinger to cause that particular quirk, but Balance could fill in the blanks—desert planet, village with few resources, no parents, older brother gone a lot… some shit went down in Stinger’s life. And he absolutely did not like sharing food off his plate.

And then, two years into their relationship, they’d been on his damn planet, at the annual celebration, just like now. They’d been at a formal dinner, with a few entree options. Stinger and Naaga got different dishes, and Balance remembered blinking, and thinking, well damn, when Naaga asked Stinger how his was. He’d given a neutral response and asked Naaga if he wanted to try some. And then, they were trying some of each other’s entrees. Nuts and bolts, he’d always known that their relationship was good for Naaga—he was more assertive, got out of his comfort zone more, seemed relaxed, and even started learning handcrafts. But Stinger? He seemed… friendlier. Like, way more at ease making things for everyone, smiling at lot, genuinely happy to be around them.

They were great together. 

“I’ll tell you later,” Naaga said softly in response to Stinger’s question about family planning.

And that was the other thing Balance admired about their relationship—Stinger was not annoyed or frustrated with Naaga telling him they’d talk about something later. He simply accepted that they would, in fact, be discussing it later, and let it go in the moment.

Seeing as Naaga looked about ready to fall asleep on the spot (and, honestly, in spite of being dead tired, Naaga also seemed fine), Balance decided to give them some space and wandered off to annoy Champ some more. (But not without a final glance back at his best friend. Stinger had gotten Naaga a selection of foods Balance knew he liked—fresh fruit, pita bread, hummus, olives, and a chocolate chip cookie. Naaga had a not-so-secret affection for chocolate. He’d deny it immediately, but his face lit up and he damn-near appeared to be in ecstasy when eating chocolate. Balance was positive the only other person to see that look on Naaga’s face was Stinger, and that was in one of those situations organics liked that Balance thought was hilarious.)

He’d get his moment to properly embarrass his bestie and grill his bestie’s boyfriend later.

His chance came after dinner. 

Spada cooked them a ridiculous dinner, but some people (Stinger) made their own entrees. Naaga and Stinger seemed more rested at dinner—Naaga especially. At least the dinner was indoors. Balance had some suspicions that sleeping was not the only thing going on between Naaga and Stinger that afternoon, because dinner included a lot of touching each other, exchanging glances and grinning. Which Balance had only witnessed from them about twice before, and they’d been in really good moods those times.

The pair of them retreated to Stinger’s room after dinner and the requisite clean-up.

He gave them twenty minutes.

Then Balance marched down the hall and flung open the door (which they’d forgotten to lock.)

Jackpot.

He was pretty sure they were both naked, but under the sheets. Naaga’s head was tilted back against the pillow, mouth open and sweaty. Balance assumed the lump under the sheets was Stinger. Naaga’s expression went from bliss to horrified in less than a second. “Balance!” he exclaimed, voice half shock and half irritation. His hands were on top of the sheet, immediately pushing at Stinger.

“Sorry to interrupt!” Balance chirped, leaning on the doorframe. “Stinger, want to pause whatever it is you’re doing down there for a minute?”

There was a little shuffling, but Stinger crawled up and appeared next to Naaga. He was also flushed and looked particularly annoyed. Once Stinger was sitting next to him, Naaga pulled the sheets to his neck, burying his face against Stinger’s shoulder, clearly embarrassed.

Balance shut the door behind him.

“This is not the first time I have caught you two in a compromising situation,” he reminded them.

“This is the first time you’ve insisted we stop so you can talk to us,” Stinger shot back. He wrapped both arms around Naaga and the sheets, holding him close. “What do you want?”

“First, you need to trim Naaga’s hair, because he’s refused to go anywhere for the last few months and have that taken care of.”

_That_ made Stinger frown and immediately inspect Naaga’s hair, running his fingers through it. “Your hair’s fine,” Stinger told him. “Maybe a little trim, but it’s not too shaggy or anything.”

“Second, this is happening, huh? You two getting back together?”

“Yes,” Stinger snapped, clearly still irritated.

“I want to hear it from Naaga.”

Naaga shifted a little, one eye on Balance. “Yes,” he agreed.

“Where are you guys going to live?” he continued, looking straight at Naaga.

Who squirmed a little, but replied, “In Stinger’s house on Earth.” Balance caught Naaga’s slight glance up at Stinger, who nodded very subtly. Nuts and bolts, had they not talked about the logistics yet? Good grief, what had all the hush-hush before lunch been about?

“You’re both really going to live in the partially repaired place?”

Naaga nodded. “We have the money to finish the renovations.”

He said we, but Balance knew that Naaga had saved all that money.

“So when are you moving there?”

Naaga’s eye widened at the question. They really hadn’t gotten to that part yet. “Um,” he stalled, but then looked at Stinger and said, “Stinger is coming with me to clear out my apartment after this. I don’t have much—it will only take a day or two. Then we’ll go back to the house and start working on the final renovations?” He said the final part like a question. Stinger smiled and kissed his forehead.

“You making all the bank accounts joint?”

“Balance!” Naaga sounded truly mortified. 

“Fine. I don’t need to know about your money. But,” he gave Stinger a pointed look, and gave Naaga an even more pointed look. “I need to know that you two have figured this shit out and are in it for the long haul. I am not putting up with you two breaking up again.”

While Balance knew that Naaga and Stinger had talked and worked through most of this, he still wanted some confirmation that they were thinking about getting married or getting counseling or something. Buying fancy plates together that no one was allowed to use. 

Stinger rolled his eyes. “We’re not breaking up again.”

Balance put his hands on his hips and waved away Stinger’s comment. “You didn’t want to break up three years ago. Still not talking to you.” He stared at Naaga.

“Balance.” Naaga’s voice was taking on a very subtle whine. “We decided this morning to go to couples counseling for a while, work through our goals and communication.” He then glanced up at Stinger. “And Stinger finished our engagement quilt.”

“You two aren’t engaged.” 

“Not yet.”

“Then why’d Stinger finish the quilt?”

“Because,” Stinger interjected. “I hoped we’d get engaged.”

“You are the weirdest hopeless romantic,” Balance informed him. “Did you do something else weird like make engagement rings?”

Stinger didn’t even look embarrassed. “Yeah,” he said casually. 

Naaga pulled away enough to look at him, eyes wide. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Stinger said again. 

Naaga frowned, pulling at Stinger’s left hand and inspecting the ring there. “That’s the one I got you for Christmas one year.”

“I’ll show them to you later,” Stinger promised. “Although people left me alone when I was wearing this one,” he added.

“That’s not why I got it for you,” Naaga muttered.

“I know.” Stinger’s voice was warm and he readjusted his arms around Naaga. “But it did work well for that purpose too.”

Balance cocked his head to one side, asking, “Why did you get it for him?” Especially if it wasn’t an engagement ring or a promise ring—seemed a weird piece of jewelry to get. Stinger could make jewelry, and didn’t particularly wear a ton of the stuff. Making this all the weirder. And weirder still that Naaga had gotten it for Stinger.

“Oh.” Naaga flushed, turning his head to press against Stinger’s shoulder. “Stinger was telling me about some family heirlooms that were lost when his home planet was destroyed. He had some pictures of a ring passed down through his great grandfather.” Stinger rubbed his back. “I had a replica made for Christmas one year.”

Interesting. 

Stars and garters, why in the hell were these two so good together?

Well, Naaga was flushed red and trying to bury himself into Stinger. Stinger, on the other hand, looked equal parts annoyed at Balance and protective of Naaga. 

“That’s really awesome,” he offered in response to the ring story. He paused, giving Naaga a long look. “Well, I’ll leave you two alone to finish whatever _this_ was.” He opened the door, then whirled back for dramatic effect, pinning Stinger with a glare. “I’m watching you.”

“Balance!” Naaga whined.

“Night! Lock the door this time!” he cheerfully threw out there, stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind him. He made it three steps before he ran into Lucky, whose brow was uncharacteristically knit into a frown. Balance knew exactly why Lucky was here and what had him worried, but he started with a gasp and, “Did you just find out they quit making your favorite cereal?”

Lucky blinked. “Cereal? What? No.” He nodded to the door. “I was going to check on them.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t!” Balance continued the irritatingly cheery tone.

“What? Why?”

He patted Lucky’s shoulder. “Let’s just say I interrupted something _very_ personal.”

“Uh—”

But before Lucky could guess, Balance blurted, “Stinger was giving Naaga a blowjob!”

“What—huh—I—what? Balance?” Lucky sputtered before finally grinding out, “You were in there for ten minutes!”

“I didn’t say _I_ was embarrassed by that fact.”

Lucky scrubbed a hand over his face. “Balance,” he groaned.

“Look,” Balance decided to play ball. “I know you’re all worried about Stinger, but trust me, they’re in this shit for the long haul now.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah. Counseling, house renovations, impending engagement, cabinet full of fancy dishes that no one’s allowed to use—all that weird stuff organics do.”

“… china cabinet?”

“I don’t actually know that one is happening, but the other three are!” Balance slung an arm around Lucky’s shoulders and led him away. “Come on, let’s see if we can find a bar in this place!”

\-------------------

The room was too damn hot.

Stinger thought he had gotten the climate controls to a reasonable level last night. Apparently, not, because even Naaga was hot, and Naaga almost never got hot indoors. The few times he had, Stinger remembered, he would slowly kick away the covers, then struggle to strip off layers of clothing, exactly like he was doing now. He was still mostly asleep, so Stinger just helped him out of the tunic-style shirt (that was actually Stinger’s.) Once the blankets and clothes were gone, he settled down, but still twitched fitfully. 

Fuck this, he’d rather they have to snuggle for warmth than Naaga be this uncomfortable. He got out of bed and padded to the climate controls, setting them back to default. He shivered a little as a blast of cool air hit his skin. He heard Naaga inhale sleepily and say, “Stinger?”

“Coming, gorgeous,” he said softly. He crossed the room in a few short steps and laid down next to Naaga, pulling the blankets over them. Naaga snuggled close, an arm across his chest.

Last night had settled down… eventually.

After Balance left, Naaga had been upset, so getting into the mood to finish what Stinger started was not happening. Stinger just got up and locked the door. “Gorgeous, don’t cry,” Stinger had said. “Balance means well.”

Naaga shook his head. “I mean… is everything I said okay?”

“Of course.” He shrugged, slipping into bed next to Naaga. “I’ll book the right transport in the morning. And we can look into moving supplies and breaking your apartment lease then too.” 

“Okay.”

Stinger pressed a kiss to his temple. “Want to take a bath?”

That question got a quick nod in response. 

Taking a bath together brought back lots of memories—Naaga enjoyed taking baths to relax and Stinger had never considered that before. (He was from a desert planet where water was scarce, so quick showers were almost an indulgence.) He’d come to enjoy them a lot with Naaga, especially because bathing together was, well, fun. They’d started out simply relaxing in the hot water, and then got serious about washing each other, which made Naaga smile. Honestly? Anything that made Naaga smile was worth it—he smiled so rarely.

After the bath, Naaga had slipped on one of Stinger’s shirts—tunic-style that hit about mid-thigh—and was in the bathroom brushing his teeth. Stinger smiled. The situation was so familiar and comfortable. Naaga had always been taking his shirts to sleep in. Stinger had made a few especially for Naaga, but put them with his clothes.

Then he attempted to change the climate controls and they got in bed.

Now, Naaga snuggled close to him, practically using him as a body pillow. “Are you still mad that Spada criticized your zucchini pasta last night?”

Stinger snorted, immediately protesting, “My spiralized zucchini was not too thick!”

Another snuggle. “I liked it.”

And that much was true. Naaga did really like Stinger’s cooking—Naaga didn’t know how to cook when they first started dating. (Spada did all the cooking on the ship and, as a professional chef, was pretty terrible at teaching because he forgot that his audience didn’t even know the basics.) Stinger was okay at cooking. On his home planet, he learned how to cook over a fire or on a grill (sometimes a microwave), and adapting to a stove and an oven was not hard. He sometimes looked up new recipes and enjoyed trying them out. Naaga liked his food, and would eat more than Stinger ever saw him eat around the ship. He showed Naaga the basics and they cooked together, becoming an evening routine. And then Naaga got confident enough that they could trade off cooking duties. Comfortable, routine. 

The kitchen here was fully stocked, so Stinger decided to elbow in and take a burner and make a meal that he knew Naaga liked—zucchini noodles with marinara and mild sausage crumbles. Warm French bread, and they were all set. When he was making the noodles, Spada has been breathing down his neck, asking him if he actually wanted them that thick. He’d finally snapped, “Get out of my personal space, Spada.”

He pressed a kiss to Naaga’s forehead. “I know you did, gorgeous.”

“I like your cooking,” Naaga mumbled. “And I like being warm with you at night.” He exhaled sleepily. “We’re going to talk about our future and our family.”

Right. Balance mentioned something about family planning yesterday. Stinger nudged Naaga a little. Naaga propped his chin on Stinger’s chest, pulling the blankets over them a little more. “What?” he asked, voice low and hoarse from sleep.

“Family?” Stinger prompted.

“Oh.” Naaga shifted a little, uncomfortable. “I was talking to Balance before this trip, and said we had been talking about getting married and maybe starting a family three years ago.” A pause. Another exhale. “And then Balance said, ‘You never told him, did you?’”

“Tell me what?” They had talked idly about starting a family. Stinger had been thinking adoption—other programs that would result in children belonging biologically to both of them were expensive and some were selective about prospective parents. Adopting a child seemed better—lots of kids needed a loving home, anyways. 

“My people can adapt,” Naaga said quickly. “I can have our baby.”

Stinger’s brain tripped over the first part, muttering, “Adapt?”

“Yes. I’d be able to have any children we want.”

“Oh.”

Naaga’s hand was on his cheek. “Is that okay?’

He blinked, pulling Naaga up and kissing him. “Naaga, that’s amazing!” He kissed him again. “You are so fucking amazing.” He started to deepen the kiss, but then pulled back abruptly when the thought occurred to him, “Do you want to have a baby? That’s… a lot.”

Naaga shrugged, obviously still sleepy and now a little dazed from the kiss. “I know it’s… difficult and a risk and there’s no guarantees.” He paused. “Let’s see how the first one goes and then decide if we want to have any additional children.”

“That’s fair.”

They’d have to talk about this a lot, in excruciating detail, before Stinger fully agreed with things, but this… didn’t exactly change things, but did remind him how much he loved Naaga and how badly he wanted to have a family and a future with him. There were members of the Ophiuchus System that had begun developing emotions and left, rather than be reconditioned. Among them were several doctors they could consult when they finally were ready for children.

“Although,” Stinger continued, affectionately brushing Naaga’s hair out of his eyes. “We should probably get married first.”

Naaga’s eyes narrowed a little, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Are you asking?”

“Yes,” he replied without hesitation. “Will you marry me?”

Naaga leaned forward and pressed a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. “Yes. I will marry you,” he whispered back against his lips. He pulled back further and motioned to Stinger’s bag. “Go get the rings.”

Stinger smiled, slipping out of bed again, and going to his bag. He pulled out the small cloth bag with the rings, and got back in bed quickly. Naaga pulled him close, snuggling back against his warmth. (The climate controls really were ridiculously cold in this place.) He shook the two silver rings out of the bag. Naaga picked on up, examining the work. The rings were silver—Stinger, and Naaga really—preferred silver. The metal was sturdier for every day wear and not flashy or ostentatious like some other metals. The bands were simple, not thick enough to draw attention, but enough that Stinger had been able to etch some designs into them. One side was their constellations intertwined. The other was a very simple snake and scorpion tail, also woven together.

“These are beautiful,” Naaga breathed.

Still smiling, Stinger slipped one on the ring finger of Naaga’s left hand. Naaga did the same to him, still studying the handiwork on the ring.

“You know,” Naaga said softly. “When we first started dating, I said something about having nothing to contribute. You were always cooking and making gifts.”

“I remember. I had to remind you that you not only fixed my datapad, you put better security software on it and made the silly thing go faster.”

“That’s when I realized we were a team. We both have things we contribute. That’s how things work. How we get stronger.”

They were quiet for a moment, Stinger pulling Naaga against his chest and wrapping both arms around him. Naaga learned how to cook and do some simple sewing and crafts. Stinger learned more of the basics around their electronics. The house had been an experience for both of them—Stinger never lived in anything other than tents, dorms and a spaceship. Naaga found the house to be less modern than Ophiuchus housing and had to learn what was not automated. 

Stinger pressed a kiss to Naaga’s temple. “So, when should we get married?”

Naaga thought for a moment. “In eighteen months.”

“Eighteen months?”

“Yes. That will give us enough time to settle in, go to counseling and plan a sufficiently formal ceremony for Raptor.”

“She wouldn’t stand for anything less, would she?” Stinger murmured, and then added, “That sounds like a plan.”

“And,” Naaga added. “We can start talking about trying to have a baby when I am thirty-two.”

That was in three years. Seemed reasonable.

“Okay. It’s a plan.” Stinger nudged Naaga a little. “It’s still pretty damn early. What do you want to do before we have to be anywhere?”

“Sex. Then we make breakfast together.”

At least Naaga still had his priorities straight.

Fin.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay! Thanks for reading! I suppose that I will eventually finish and post more of my Stinger/Naaga pieces. And, well, it is National Novel Writing Month. 
> 
> Shout-out to kiranosaurusrex for also loving this ship and being awesome in general! :)


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